The Rise of a God
by Kirigiya The Wanderer
Summary: Response to my own challenge. Madara sends his only son to England in the wake of a brutal attack by enemy shinobi. Watch as Harry grows and learns about his heritage, going to a wizards' school and making friends and enemies. "But, why do I have the Sharingan, anyway?"
1. Chapter 1

**Hello guys! This is a response to my own challenge, as I thought writing this would inspire others to perhaps try their hand at it as well. With this story going, I think I'm going to be putting my other fics on hiatus until this one gets further along. It just sort of pulled me in. Oh, and don't forget to review! Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Harry Potter, blah blah. On with the story!**

_"I still believe that protecting the village is the best way to protect people, shinobi, children! Anyone who tries to harm it, whether they are my friends, siblings, or my own children; I won't forgive them!"_

Madara jerked awake, aware of a sharp pain in the center of his chest. The Uchiha leaned up, wincing in pain as he did so. Looking down, he saw his torso was wrapped in linen bandages, along with many other parts of his body. Cursing, he slammed a fist into the dirt beside him in anger, not caring about the pain of the sudden movement. _'Kuso!'_ He had lost to Hashirama, again.

His mind went back to the battle, remembering the wound that should have killed him, before remembering his bandages. Someone had saved him. He looked around in curiosity, brushing his somewhat untidy waist-length black hair out of his dark Uchiha eyes. He was in a white tent, sparsely furnished apart from the bedroll he currently occupied and what looked like a wash basin, along with a desk that contained many different herbs and other such medical supplies.

_'But, who saved me?'_

Madara immediately tensed as he sensed a prescence approaching. If they had healed him, they probably held him no ill will. Still, one didn't become head of the Uchiha Clan by trusting everyone who seemed to hold anything but ill will towards them. After a moment's wait, a woman entered the tent. She was of average height, had waist-length red hair braided down her back, sharp, intelligent emerald eyes, a slightly angular face, and a surprised look upon her face.

"When did you wake up?" She asked, hastily moving to his side and checking him over with medical ninjutsu, green chakra forming around her hands.

"Just now," Madara replied evenly.

"With all of your wounds, it's amazing you survived at all. But being awake already?" the woman was obviously shocked, and Madara couldn't blame her; the wounds he and Hashirama had dealt each other were quite serious indeed. "Just who are you, mister?"

Madara took a moment to respond, silently weighing his options in his head. Even though this woman had saved him, he didn't know how she would react to him being Madara Uchiha. Sure, he bore the Uchiha crest, but that didn't nessesarily make him Madara. He could pose as another member of his clan, and she probably would never find out. But, after a moment's contemplation, Madara decided on the truth.

"My name is Uchiha Madara," he said, his low voice filled with a power few could claim to possess.

The woman stared at him, frozen in shock, and Madara had to admit, she looked... intriguing when she made that face.

"M-Madara?" she stuttered.

"Yes, I take it you've heard of me?"

"Of course, you're one of the strongest ninja to live. It's amazing that anyone was able to do this much damage to you, whoever they were, they must be really powerful,"

Madara scowled at the mention of someone who could best him. "There is only one who could ever hope to defeat me," he returned, somewhat arrogant.

"The First, right? They say he's the strongest ninja in history," The woman had calmed herself by now, steeling her emotions behind a blank mask as she rose and began preparing salves for him on the other side of the tent.

Madara's scowl deepened at the mention of his rival. "Yes, well, be that as it may, we fought, and I ended up like this. Next time, however, will be different,"

The woman walked back to him, applying fresh bandages as she replied. "Don't get too ahead of yourself, you won't be able to be out and about again at full strength for several months, so just take it easy, alright?"

Madara's jaw almost dropped at that. Almost. He schooled his features into a cool, confident mask before asking the woman. "Several months?

"You're chakra stores were completely depleted, chakra exhaustion alone would've killed you if I didn't find you in that valley last night. Taking into account that you should be long dead from your wounds, and it's a miracle you're still alive. You seem to have pleased the gods in some way," she said, smirking playfully.

Madara found he liked it when she did that.

"Oh, and call me Nami,"

Madara supposed recouperating with Nami wouldn't be so bad after all.

_Five Years Later_

Madara sat in the floor of his home, an uncharacteristically happy smile on his face as a small child with messy black hair slowly walked towards him.

"That's it, Daisuke. Just a bit more," he encouraged as the child hurried his pace and ran into the Uchiha's awaiting arms.

Madara's smile broadened as his son's emerald green eyes found his own black orbs. Daisuke was such an intelligent boy for his age.

"Teaching him to walk?" a kind voice asked from behind him.

Standing up, Holding Daisuke in his arms, Madara turned, bringing the newcomer into a group hug.

"Nami, you wouldn't believe how gifted Daisuke is. He's sevon months old, and can already walk without any aid,"

A lot had changed in five years. Nami had managed to talk Madara out of his violent plans for peace, persuading him into finding peace through peaceful means. It was slow going, but Madara thought that maybe, given a few more years, he could actually achieve something in this manner. The two had fallen in love shortly after meeting, and married one year after Nami had found him after his battle with the First Hokage.

"You sure are proud of him," Nami replied, smiling.

"Of course, he's an Uchiha, and you can see it in how easily he learns new things. The child's a prodigy,"

Madara had never been one to love, but something about Nami drew him to her. He loved her with all his heart, even more so than he loved his brother Izuna. And if Madara loved anyone more than his beautiful wife, it was the amazing baby they had together. Nami and Daisuke were his world, and he would do anything for them.

The next morning found Madara going into town for various errands that Nami wanted him to go on while she watched Daisuke at home. He didn't mind, in fact walking alone helped him clear his mind and prepare for the upcoming day. After his errands in town were finished, he began walking home. Shortly before arriving, however, Madara noticed smoke rising above the trees where his home was located, along with several chakra signatures.

_'Nami'_

The ninja quickly dashed off, nothing more than a blur to the world as he raced home as fast as he could. It was times like these he was thankful for continuing his ninja training, even if he didn't partake in violence anymore. He reached his house within a minute, which was pretty fast considering his home was more than two miles away from town. Bursting through the trees, he beheld three men with shinobi attire plundering his house. Two were dragging his belongings into the open as a fire grew along the roof of the house. The other lunged with a kunai at Nami, who was holding little Daisuke, trying to protect him from harm.

Time seemed to slow as Madara sped to his wife's side, but it was too late; the enemy shinobi had started the lunge before Madara had shown up, and he couldn't reach Nami before the kunai plunged into her ribcage, narrowly missing Daisuke.

The ninja barely registered the fact that his kill was successful before his neck snapped so violently that his head was almost disconnected from his body. Madara let go of the dead ninja's corpse as Nami fell, dropping Daisuke as the life left her. Madara quickly caught both, holding them to him as he tried to keep Nami awake.

"Nami, Nami please don't die. Nami, don't die on me, Nami please," but it was all in vain. Madara's wife had died before Madara caught her.

Time seemed to slow down as Madara held his dead wife close to him, careful to avoid harming Daisuke, who cried openly, as if aware of the current situation.

A loud clanging was heard as multiple kunai knives hit a blue ribcage made of pure chakra that surrounded Madara. He lay Nami's still form on the ground and slowly turned around, cradeling Daisuke in his arms. The two enemy shinobi froze as a pair of Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan locked them with a gaze that promised a swift death. They were unable to move as Madara's Susanoo flared to life, striking them with one of its swords, effectively ending their lives.

"After all I've done for this world, even foregoing violence for a more peaceful path, and this is how I'm repaid?" he thundered to himself. "It seems I was wrong to think I could achieve peace through peaceful means. There can be no peace in this accursed shinobi world. Unless... Someone were to guide the ninja of this world, make them forget all of their pain and suffering. All of their hatred. Yes, it seems project Tsuki No Me is going to be enacted after all,"  
A distant crying drew him from his thoughts as he looked to his crying child. He internally cursed as he debated what to do about Daisuke. With the kind of life he was planning on living, he was sure that Daisuke would be targeted to get to him, and his son wasn't strong enough to defend himself from those who would try to harm him for his relation to the former Uchiha Clan Head. Even if Daisuke was strong enough to protect himself, he was sure Nami wouldn't want her son growing up around violence and conflict. Madara, having grown in the era of the Clan Wars, agreed with this. He needed to find a safe place for Daisuke to stay, but he couldn't think of anywhere in the Elemental Nations where his son would be safe for a long period of time.

After a few more moment's thought, he found his answer. _'I could use that jutsu.' _He raised Daisuke towards him, trying to commit his child's face to memory as he spoke to him.

"Alright Daisuke, don't cry, everything is going to be alright from here on out. Dad is going to fix this world, and I need you to stay somewhere safe until I can come get you again, alright?" A lone tear made its way down his face as he readied himself to let go of his son, possibly forever. "I'm sending you to a different dimension, somewhere that my enemies can't find you and use you against me. Don't worry too much though, I'm putting a jutsu on you that will transport you to me once you've fully awakened your Sharingan," Madara said as he placed Daisuke gently on the ground and began making several handsigns.

After several minutes of weaving signs, Madara placed his palms on Daisuke, a blue light surrounding his son for a moment, before a brief flash blinded the Uchiha. Upon opening his eyes again, he found his son was gone.

"We'll meet again, Daisuke. Of that fact I'm certain," he said grimly as he entered the burning house, gathering his weapons before leaving the vicinity.

"Good luck, my son."

_England, 1981_

"So Lily, should we keep him?" a tall man with untidy hair and glasses asked a beautiful woman with red hair and green eyes, the latter clutching a baby in her arms.

"Yes," she replied with no hesitation. "James, you know I'm sterile. This child just appeared before us, I'm telling you it's a sign. We should keep him,"

"Alright, fine," James sighed. He knew he would never be able to convince his wife otherwise, and whatever made her happy, made him happy. "But, Lily, what should we name him?"

The woman was silent for a few minutes, internally debating what would be the best name for the dark-haired child before her.

"Harry," she responded. "Harry James Potter."

**And that's a wrap! Wow, I'm not sure, but that felt like one of my longer chapters. Man, I'm so excited to get back into writing! Alright, one quick question: Should Harry/Daisuke's Mangekyo power be Kamui, Amaterasu/Tsukoyomi/Susanoo, or both? Leave a review with your answer. Until next time!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again everyone! Two chapters in two days, let's hope I don't slow down. Anyways, I just wanted to thank everyone who reviewed, you guys give me the motivation I need to write. Oh, and Proud Harmonian, this story will focus mainly on Harry and how he manipulates the Elemental nations, so I don't think I'll be focusing on Naruto enough to set up a believable pairing with anyone. I'll probably stick to canon on most of what happens directly to Naruto. OK guys, a quick request: If anyone wants to make a cover for this story, you would be beyond God-Tier.**  
** Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Harry Potter, blabbity blah blah. On with the story! **

"Up. Get up. Now!"  
Harry groaned as he blearily opened his eyes at the impatient call from his aunt. How could he have forgotten? It was his cousin Dudley's birthday, and he was expected to cook for his family while Dudley opened the presents his parents showered upon him. Harry used to resent his cousin for being spoiled while he was not, but Harry eventually began to take it in stride, and stopped caring. Harry found that it was quite easy to hide his emotions behind a mask of indifference, and it always helped him collect his thoughts and act rationally, even lessening Dudley's bullying somewhat. Sighing, he slowly sat up in his small bed and began tiredly rubbing his eyes. He hastily got up from his bed and headed to the door of his room. There wasn't much in it, only his bed, a nightstand with an old and battered lamp, and a dresser. He had gotten the room recently, just after one of his cousin Dudley's friends, Piers, Harry thought his name was, somehow set his hair on fire.

Harry had been blamed for that, even though he had been pinned against a wall by Dudley at the time. No amount of arguing with his family would convince them; any odd occurence that happened around them was Harry's fault. And Harry had to admit, many strange things did happen to him. Like the time a boy had tried to hit him, only to be viciously shocked by what seemed to be lightning emanating from Harry himself, though the child shrugged it off as some crazy static electrical shock. Or when a teacher had gotten mad at him for something Dudley had done, and all of her hair fell out. Harry was always blamed by his family, and more often than not punished by being forced into his cupboard (located under the stairs) for extended durations without food.

After Piers' hair was extinguished, and Harry punished, his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had surprised the young boy by giving him Dudley's second bedroom. It was indeed odd, Harry thought, as they had seemed to be trying to be less mean to him, although whenever he was in their prescence they were uncharacteristically tense, as if Harry himself was a bomb, ready to explode at any moment.

Harry saw the new way his relatives treated him to be a plus, even Dudley didn't bully him quite as often anymore. So, with more of a spring in his step than usual, Harry walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, ready to prepare breakfast for his relatives. As he entered, he saw stacks upon stacks of presents for Dudley piled on the table, nearly obscuring it from view. Harry internally sighed and began cooking bacon, eggs, and toast.

Harry had to fight to keep a smirk off his face when Dudley entered the kitchen and immediately began complaining on his lack of presents. Harry, fearing Dudley would soon turn over the table as he argued with his parents, quickly grabbed his plate and moved away from his cousin. He tried to tune them out, as he honestly didn't care about what they had to say, he couldn't help overhearing the last bit of their conversation.

"Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him."

Harry, even though he knew he shouldn't, felt elated at this sentence. Every year, when the Dursleys took Dudley out for his birthday, Harry was left at Mrs. Figg's house. Mrs. Figg, thought nice enough, was obsessed with cats, and never ceased showing him pictures of her numerous felines.

"We could phone Marge," his uncle replied.

"Don't be silly Vernon, she hates the boy,"

'The feeling's mutual' Harry thought with a scowl. Marge was Vernon's sister, and she took great pleasure in showering Dudley with attention and gifts when Harry was in the same room, taking every opportunity to put him down and tell him he was worthless. Not to mention she enjoyed letting her dogs chase him around for hours on end.

"What about your friend... Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorica," Aunt Petunia paused for a moment, seemingly deep in thought as she pursed her lips.

"I suppose we could take him with us," she finally spoke. "And leave him in the car,"

"Absolutly not! That car's new, there's no way he's sitting in it alone," his uncle thundered back.

Harry sat back, waiting with baited breath for the final descison. Across the room, Dudley began to cry loudly. The oaf of a boy knew that crying, or pretending to, was a sure fire way to get anything he wanted. For some unfathomable reason, Harry's aunt and uncle were powerless against Dudley's cries, giving in to whatever he wanted without a second thought.

"Dinky Duddydums, dont cry. Mommy won't let him spoil your special day,"

Harry mentally scoffed; this was just pathetic. Dudley should hold himself up with pride, as was expected from the firstborn of a family, or so Harry thought. Harry, no matter how many times he had been chased by dogs, humilated in school, beaten up by his cousin, or neglected by his relatives, still stood tall and proud. Nothing his family did could break him, and this gave him great satisfaction. He knew his family wanted him meek and helpless, easier to bully, and as soon as he realized this, he began fighting back. Not physically, he knew that would just prolong the ordeal, but he began putting his stoic mask into place, acting as if his relatives weren't even worth his time. Every time he saw them lose interest in messing with him, he would smirk and give himself another point in what he now saw as a game between them. Sometimes he fancied he saw fear flicker in their eyes when they saw him with emotionless mask in place, but he chalked that up to his imagination.

"I don't want him to come!" Dudley wailed at his mother, trying his best to prevent his cousin from coming with them to the zoo.

Before Dudley could continue his mini-tantrum, the doorbell rang.

"They're here," Petunia muttered, rushing to answer the door.

Dudley's act immediately ceased as one of his friends, Piers walked into the house. The family quickly became normal, and went to their car. Vernon was quick to stop Harry outside the car after everyone else had gotten in.

"I'm warning you now boy," he said, waving his car keys threateningly towards him, "Any funny business, any at all, and you'll be in your room from now until Christmas."

A cold glare directed at his uncle was Harry's response. Vernon quickly broke eye contact.

"Well, don't need to tell you twice," his uncle muttered as he entered the car.

While they drove to the zoo, Harry kept quiet, thinking about a dream he'd had the night before. In it, he was being attacked by people he didn't know, and right before he would be killed in the dream, a figure cloaked in a blue energy would save him. Harry often thought about this dream, as he often had it. Nearly every night, but he didn't mind. The person who saved him in his dream awoke emotions in Harry that the child had never felt towards anyone before: Respect, admiration, love. This confused the boy to no end, as he couldn't for the life of him remember who this mystery person was.

It wasn't long before they reached the zoo, Harry keeping his distance as Dudley and Piers oogled every animal within sight. But, sadly, everything went downhill when they arrived at the reptile house. Harry was content to watch Dudley and Piers make fools of themselves trying to wake a boa constrictor from its slumber. When they grew bored of watching the snake lay still, they quickly moved on to more exciting reptiles. Harry, having nothing better to do, moved in front of the snake, admiring its scales.

'It's almost like armor.'

After a few more moments, when Harry was about to move on to another exhibit, the snake jerked its head up and stared into the young boy's eyes. Harry jumped, momentarily panicked, before schooling his features back into a calm mask of indifference.

"Hello," Harry greeted, although he didn't know why he was talking to a snake, of all things.

Unsurprisingly, however, the snake remained silent, merely casting a curious glance to Harry before returning to its previous position.

"Dudley, look! The snake's moving!" Piers' voice called out, the boy apparently having seen the snake glance at Harry.

At his friend's call, Dudley came over as quickly as his already immense bulk allowed him.

"Out of the way, you," he said menacingly, punching at Harry's ribs.

Out of reflex, Harry brought both of his arms up, crossing them in front of his chest, effectively blocking Dudley's punch. The force, however, still caused Harry to fall down as Dudley and Piers went back to staring at the boa. Then, before anyone knew what had happened, Dudley and Piers fell through the glass into the boa's territory.

They yelped in terror as the snake slithered out of its cage, making its way out of the zoo as fast as it could. After the boys had been taken out of the area, Harry sighed. He was sure to get an earfull when they got home.

Harry was slightly surprised when all his uncle did as punishment was a bit of yelling, before sending him to his room. Harry idled wondered what he had done to gain their hatred, settling on a hatred for his parents that somehow was transferred to him when they had died in the car crash all those years ago. Harry crossed his legs as he sat on his bed, mulling over the events of the day. He had a lot to think about.

**Boom! Another chapter down! Yes, I'm so excited about this series, you guys have no idea. Anyway, I hope you guys like Harry, I hope I made him Uchiha enough for you guys. Well, Uchiha enough for a young orphan who is constantly bullied and neglected. And I wondered how you guys would take Harry's inability to speak to snakes. Alright guys, quick question: Who should I pair Harry with? I'm thinking either Hermione or Luna, though no romance will develop for another few years, though I will have Harry meet Luna in Second Year. Until next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone! It sure is nice to be back, sorry for the delay. I'll try to update more regularly, no promises though. I was wondering, what do you guys think about Harry not being a parselmouth? Also, I'm thinking-and this is not by any means confirmed, just a thought-of perhaps getting two snake-obsessed antagonists from the two different universes together for a team up of ultimate destruction! Just a thought, tell me what you think!**

** Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Harry Potter, sigh.**

Harry blearily opened his eyes as a loud banging awoke him from his dreamless sleep. He hastily got up from where he was sleeping on the floor, once again taking in the rundown building he was being forced to stay in. Shortly after he had been allowed out of his room in wake of the snake incident, Harry had began recieving strange letters delivered by owls that his uncle always snatched from him before he could read it. Harry was very pleased with himself when he had managed to get a letter from the mail man before his uncle had gotten up; the buffoon had fallen asleep in the doorway waiting for the mail man as well.

Fortunately, Harry was more intelligent than his Uncle Vernon (not that it was particularly hard to be smarter than him) and had quietly taken the letter back to his room before reading it, his uncle never knowing he had done so. After reading the letter, Harry personally thought it was a bit hard to believe. A magic school? Really? But as Harry thought about it, he couldn't think of why anyone would waste their time sending him fake letters just to humiliate him. His aunt and uncle, maybe, but Harry felt that whoever had sent the letter had spent much too much time on it for it to be some casual joke, and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would definitely not take the time to create the letter that Harry had just finished reading.

Harry had quickly written a reply and sent it back with the owl before going back down the stairs where his uncle slumbered, and placed the letter on him. He went back to the top of the stairs, and made a good show of loudly coming down the steps in search of his letter. His uncle awoke to Harry greedily opening his (already opened) letter, and was quick to take it from the boy and destroy it. Harry smirked as he was sent to his room; he had begun contact with these strange people, and his family was none the wiser.

Things had gone normally for the next few days, before letters started showing up again. His aunt and uncle were very perplexed by this, and began sending Harry to his room for little to no reason at all so he wouldn't get any letters, making sure to put a lock on his windows. He had heard his aunt and uncle argueing in the kitchen, and he gathered that those who had sent his first letter had responded, asking for a time for them to meet him at his house, to take him shopping for school supplies and introduce him to the magical world.

That was when Uncle Vernon had gotten a great idea in his mind: run for it! The whole family had been uprooted, and they had been on a truly pathetic journey as they traveled the cities surrounding Surrey, eventually taking a dilipidated boat to a small island that housed, well, a house. They had little food that night, but at least Harry, or his glare, had persuaded his family to give him a decent blanket to cover up with. The rest of the night hadn't been that eventful, and Harry had drifted off into a peaceful sleep, despite the horrendous sound of the storm raging outside. He had briefly thought about waking up early and celebrating his birthday, but the day honestly held no special meaning for him. Nobody gave him presents, nobody congragulated him on another year survived; honestly, he just couldn't see the point.

Harry was drawn out of his thoughts as the banging began again, resulting in the rickety old door falling off its hinges. Everyone was awake at this point, each with various degrees of fear and shock on their faces as the intruder intered the building; all save Harry, that is. The young man merely stood towards the back of the room, staring at the newcomer in curiousity.

The man, for that was what he was, save the fact that he was twice the size of a normal man, and had at least twice the girth, seemed nonchalant as he gazed upon each of the occupents of the room. He quickly zeroed in on Harry, his glance shifting towards the boy's forehead for a moment before he moved to the center of the small room.

"Couldn't make us a cup of tea, could you? It hasn't been an easy journey,"

He casually walked to the sofa, not caring as the piece of furniture broke under his weight. Harry smiled slightly as Dudley screamed and ran behind his parents' backs, cowering.

"I demand you leave at once!" Uncle Vernon nearly whimpered, obviously not happy with the current arrangement, and more than a little frightened as he stood a little closer to his wife and child. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Oh shut up Dursley, you great prune," the man responded, seemingly not caring as he casually withdrew a pink umbrella from his enormous coat, proceeding to point it at the cold fireplace.

Harry was more than a little shocked as the fireplace blazed to life, crackling merrily as the strange man warmed his hands. It seemed this school he would be going to did indeed teach magic. Even having determined the letter was legitimate, the boy was surprised that it was speaking the truth about magic. He had always been skeptic, he thought as he stared at what the man had done.

Starting a fire had looked easy for the man, so Harry suspected it was pretty simple magic to cast. He imagined his mouth watered as he thought of what he could achieve with magic, how strong he could become. He couldn't wait to begin learning, so he figured he'd hurry the man up a bit.

"Hello, I'm Harry. May I ask for your name?"

The man seemed to smile at him for a moment through his wild facial hair before responding.

"Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts. And I of course know your name, I saw you when you were just a baby. Happy birthday, by the way. Hang on, I've got something for you," he began rummaging through his coat as Harry looked on, gaping.

Nobodoy had ever bothered to remember his birthday before, and never in his wildest dreams had anyone ever gotten him anything. He felt his apathetic mask crack as Hagrid gingerly withdrew a small box, handing it to him. Harry's eyes widened as he saw a cake inside with green icing spelling _Happy Birthday Harry_.

Harry was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts and schooling his face once more into his mask of indifference.

"Thank you very much, Hagrid," Harry said graciously, extending his hand to Hagrid.

He soon regretted this as his arm was nearly torn off from the vigorous hand shake Hagrid gave him. Hagrid sat back on the sofa and began busying himself with making a meal with cutlery he pulled from his coat. Harry was content to sit on a nearby windowsill and enjoy his cake, calmly observing Hagrid all the while.

The man seemed kind enough, and Harry believed befriending him would be in his best interest. He was definitely intimidating, and could at the least serve as a deterrent should anyone wish to harm him in any way, shape, or form. Soon Hagrid had finished cooking sausages, and passed a couple to Harry.

"Don't take anything he gives you, Dudley," Uncle Vernon said, reminding Harry that his family was still cowering in the corner.

"Your great pudding of a son don't need fattening anymore," Hagrid responded.

Harry was passed a couple sausages, which he greedily ate. He hadn't been given this much food at once in a long time.

"So, Sir," Harry began after a few silent minutes, in which he managed to finish the sausages and resume his attack on the cake.

"Call me Hagrid,"

"Right, Hagrid. What are you doing here, exactly?" Harry thought it was a fair enough question, although he had an idea of what the man was doing here.

"Ah, I'm here to take you to get your things for Hogwarts, which I'm sure you'll know all about,"

Harry hesitated momentarily.

"Actually, Hagrid, I know nothing about it besides the fact that is a school which focuses on teaching young people the ways of magic,"

Hagrid was silent for a moment, frowning, before he rounded on Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, who were still cowering in the corner.

"Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that Harry Potter wouldn't know anything about Hogwarts. You Dursleys are lucky I'm here on official business, or I'd... I'd," he turned back to Harry, trying to calm himself down. "Didn't you ever wonder where your parents learned it all?"

"Magic? No, I only found out about it when you started sending me letters,"

Hagrid's fury reignited as he jumped to his feet, staring down the three nonmagical people in the room, anger pouring off him in waves.

"Are you trying to tell me, that this boy knows nothing... nothing about anything?"

Harry frowned at that; he was always the most intelligent kid he knew in school, often outstripping even those older than him.

Hagrid tore his gaze from the Dursleys back to Harry as he questioned the boy.

"You don't know anything? But you must know about your mom and dad, you're all famous!"

That stopped Harry in his tracks. He felt a cold overcome him as this fact slowly sank in. How much more had his Uncle and Aunt neglected to tell him? Harry vowed, then and there, to make his family pay for what they had done to him. But now wasn't the time. Now he needed answers.

"Why are they famous, Hagrid?" Harry was completely calm on the inside, having adopted his usual apathetic demeaner. But something was different, though. There was a slight aura emnating from him; a cold feeling that permeated the room and made his relatives flinch.

"You don't know," Hagrid repeated, heaving a defeated sigh.

"Stop, I forbid you to tell him anything," there was Uncle Vernon's annoying voice again.

Harry drew himself up to his full (quite small) height, glaring at his family with all of the anger and hatred that had built up over the years of hard treatment living at Privet Drive.

"No, Vernon. You can't tell Hagrid to do anything, I'm tired of hearing your voice. Either shut your obnoxious mouth, or leave," Harry's voice was quiet, but everyone heard it.

They all stood frozen, momentarily stunned at Harry's words, before Vernon (Harry believed he had lost the right to be called Harry's family) began talking again.

"Now see here, boy-" Vernon stopped immediately as Harry slowly pointed his finger at him.

"Begone from my prescence, swine," Harry felt a strange sensation rush through him as Vernon was suddenly lifted off his feet and thrown into the wall, breaking it and falling through into the storm outside.

Harry's sudden glare stopped anyone from scolding him, and silenced his aunt's shriek as Dudley rushed outside to help his father.

"Now you will all be quiet for the rest of the night, I promise I will be gone by morning. But for now, Hagrid, we have much to discuss."

**And another chapter down! So I hit a tad bit of writers' block, but I soldiered through it. I hope you all enjoy how I'm portraying Harry, and yes, I'm aware that some characters might seem a bit OOC, I apologize, this is an AU story after all. Next chapter will see Harry entering Diagon Alley, and may end after he arrives at Hogwarts, I'm still unsure. Oh, and Harry will go to the Elemental Nations, it just won't be for awhile. Probably during/after Second Year. Until next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello everyone! Sorry I took so long between updates, life sometimes punches you in the face. I just wanted to say, I'm trying not to make this story cliche. So, many cliche things (you guys have left some ideas in review that, while good, were overdone) will not be present in this fic. I hope that doesn't deter my readers. Also, you guys will see the introduction of a new character this chapter, so enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto/Harry Potter, yeah, I get it. On with the story!**

"Hagrid, are you ready to go?" Harry sat calmly drinking tea at a wizarding bar Hagrid had taken him to early in the morning after his confrontation with the Dursleys.

After Hagrid had told Harry about how his parents really died, the young boy had been livid. Why would anyone keep this fact from him, lie about it no less? Harry's disdain for his relatives grew and grew as Hagrid finished his story. His anger had even broken through his emotionless mask which he prided himself on maintaining at all times. Hagrid, Petunia, and Dudley had been near to soiling their pants, Harry knew, but he decided not to act on his observation, for now. Hagrid had spent the night in the shack, giving Harry his coat to cover himself with as Dudley supported a limping Vernon to the next room, a nearly hysterical Petunia not far behind. Harry had enough time to see her glare directed at him before she vanished into the room where her husband and son were staying; there was nothing in her gae besides disgust, pain, and hate for Harry. Any hopes that the boy may have had that his aunt somewhat loved him were extinguished in that moment.

The next morning, Hagrid had taken Harry to a bar called the Leaky Cauldron, which apparently only they could see. Hagrid had gotten Harry a cup of tea, buying a large brandy for himself. ("I've got to clear my head.")

Hagrid's idea of clearing his head was interesting, but Harry didn't comment, patiently waiting for almost half an hour before asking if Hagrid was finished with his drink.

"Sure, Harry. Let's go," Hagrid said, standing up and wiping the brandy out of his beard.

The giant of a man took Harry out behind the bar, tapping his umbrella in a pattern on the brick wall they faced. Harry's eyes widened as the bricks slowly began to move, forming a doorway in the wall. Harry and Hagrid stepped through it and into a bustling, cobbled street filled with people in cloaks moving to and fro, merchants selling their wares, and people that seemed to be just wandering around.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley!" Hagrid said, looking at Harry, a smile shining through his beard.

Harry let out a "Hmm" as he began walking down the street, Hagrid leading the way. The first stop they had to make was Gringotts' Wizarding Bank, to gather the funds Harry needed to buy his school supplies. He was wearing a cloak Hagrid had given him to avoid detection, as he was apparently a celebrity here. Hagrid had given Harry his own cloak, shrunk to fit him, to which Harry was grateful; he didn't want to be thanked and praised for something he didn't remember doing, he would rather people acknowledge him for his own accomplishments, his own _power_.

They made it to the bank relatively unmolested, Harry reading a golden plaque as they entered:

"_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there." _

Harry found he liked the warning as they passed two diminutive men in armor, wielding pikes, by the doors.

"Hagrid, who-"

"Goblins," Hagrid answered gruffly. "They aren't the nicest of creatures, but they do their jobs well; Gringotts is the safest place to store anything anywhere in the world, except Hogwarts, of course."

Harry nodded silently; he'd have to try to get into their good graces then, they had the potential to be very powerful allies. The pair quickly made their way through a large room filled with Goblin tellers and human customers scattered here and there. Coming to a stop in front of a teller, Hagrid got its attention.

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter needs to access his vault," he said kindly, prompting the aging Goblin to look up from his work.

The Goblin had pale, waxy skin, sparse gray hair, and beady black eyes. All in all, he wasn't a very pleasant sight.

"Does Mr. Potter have his key?" He asked in a raspy voice.

"Oh, I've got it here, somewhere," Hagrid answered, hastily checking his pockets for a moment before withdrawing a small golden key.

"Here it is," he said, handing it to the Goblin.

The teller inspected the key for a few moments, before handing it to Harry.

"And will that be all?" the Goblin questioned.

"Ah, almost forgot. Dumbledore wanted to get you-know-what from vault you-know-which," Hagrid said, handing a small parcel to the teller.

The Goblin nodded.

"Alright. If you wait, a guide will be here shortly."

Not even a minute later, a younger, stocky Goblin by the name of Griphook appeared, telling them that he would be taking them to their vaults. He began leading them into a side room, where a lone mine cart sat on rickety rails. Harry turned a curious eye to Hagrid.

"The vaults are located deep underground," Griphook said without turning around. "The older the family, the deeper the vault. The vaults you will be visiting today are relatively high, compared to the other vaults here at Gringotts. Our ride should be but a moment."

Harry was silent as they seated themselves in the cart, Hagrid's immense bulk pushing both him and Griphook into the edge of the cart. A short, exhilerating ride later, the three stood in front of a stone wall.

"This is your vault, Mr. Potter," Griphook said, motioning to the wall. "Only a Gringotts Goblin can open these," he explained as he pressed his hand against it, causing the wall to open.

"What happens if someone who isn't from Gringotts tries to open a vault?" Harry inquired.

Gringotts grinned widely, shwing off his pointed teeth.

"They are pulled into the vault, until we get them out."

"And how often do you check your vaults for would-be theives?"

"Oh, about every ten years or so," the Goblin replied.

Harry was very glad that he was standing outside the reach of Griphook's torch, because he thought that Hagrid might find his smirk unsettling. Harry cleared his face into a mask of indifference once more, stepping into his vault. If he was being honest with himself, he was not expecting what he found: stacks upon stacks of gold coins (galleons, Harry remembered Hagrid calling them) littered the small area, piled upon each other in neat, organized rows. While Harry knew that this much wouldn't be considered rich by any means in the Wizarding World, he was by no means poor. He could probably afford to live comfortably without working for a decade or two after school, which stopped him for a minute.

_'What do I want to do with my life?'_ he asked himself.

Did he want to become Minister, do whatever various magical jobs that he would undoubtably learn about during his time at Hogwarts? Harry found that he couldn't decide, so he shrugged it off; he had plenty of time to think of that. He quickly gathered a few stacks into a bag that Hagrid had given him before leaving, the vault closing behind him.

"Mr. Potter, may I have a word?" Griphook asked as Harry stepped back into the torchlight.

Harry glanced at Hagrid, who was looking at Harry uneasily. Harry nodded to the man, causing Hagrid to sigh and climb into the cart, away from the human and Goblin.

"What is it, Mr. Griphook?"

"I need you to prick your finger with this," Griphook said, bringing a small dagger out of the folds of his robes.

"And why would I do that?" Harry asked, looking skeptically at the weapon in front pf him.

"This is a matter of security, please, I swear to you upon my money and status as a Goblin of Gringotts that I mean you no harm," Griphook said anxiously.

Harry stared at the dagger. Pricking his finger wouldn't cause him much harm at all, unless it was poisoned. But still, Harry suspected that, had Griphook meant him harm, he would already be dead by now.

"Fine," Harry said, pressing his index finger to the blade long enough to draw blood.

Harry watched as his blood dripped down the blade of the dagger, causing the blade to glow red for a brief second before dimming.

"It is as we thought," Griphook muttered, solemnly stowing the dagger back into his robes.

"What is it, Griphook? What does that mean?" Harry was highly curious by this point, and he doubted he could keep his need to know out of his voice.

"It means you cannot access the main vault."

"Main vault?"

"Yes," Griphook sighed. "The vault you just left was just a trust vault set up for you by Lily and James Potter. You would have been able to access the main vault when you reached your majority. However, in light of recent events, namely the test we just finished, you will never be able to do so."

"Why not?" Harry was worried at this news. If it was his money, what was the big deal about taking his blood... Oh, that was it. But that couldn't be, right? Harry had to know.

"Are they... Are they my real parents?"

Griphook was understandably shocked by Harry's guess, but Harry knew he was right as Griphook lowered his head. Harry felt his heart sink into his stomach as he tried to comprehend what was going on.

"The dagger I had you prick your finger on would read the blood that dripped onto it. It revealed that, while you were legally the son of Lily and James, you are not a blood relative of them."

Harry felt his breath quicken a bit, he felt like passing out. Everything he knew, or thought he knew, had been a lie, as he found the night before. And now, as he was settling into the truth that had been revealed to him, he was once again told it was all a lie.

"But, how can I access the trust vault if I'm not their son?" his voice was low as he spoke.

Griphook looked upon Harry with pity, and the boy hated it. He hated being weak. He hated people thinking he wasn't strong enough to face whatever had yet to come to him.

"It seems you were legally adopted shortly after you were born. Lily and James kept the papers secret, only they and we higher-ups at Gringotts knew about your adoption. They actually wrote in their wills that you inherit all of their possessions anyway, but the law forids it. You see, our world is run mostly by rich bigots who believe in 'blood purity', or basically how long magic has been in any person's family, and they allow this to determine their social status here in this world. And as such, they passed laws forbidding anyone but those of blood relation from accessing the vaults of the deceased. I am sorry."

Harry decided, then and there, to become great on his own, blood status be damned. He didn't need the power or money of a rich family to get what he wanted, he had the determination, the power to do whatever he wanted. He would become the most powerful figure in wizarding history, and he would start with overthrowing the current magical government.

"Mr. Potter, I must ask you to please be wary of anyone you meet in the magical world. There are some who would use your fame to achieve their own goals. Especially _him_."

"Who is that?"

"You will see soon enough, now hurry, your friend seems to be getting impatient."

It was with a subdued atmosphere that the trio traveled to the vault Hagrid sought, Harry hardly sparing a glance as the man pocketed a small, dirty package before they were on their way again. They said their goodbyes, and they were off. Slowly, but surely, Harry and Hagrid worked their way through his school list, buying whatever he needed, and a bit more. Harry did stop in the bookstore to buy the second and third year editions of all Hogwarts school books in order to get ahead of all of his classmates, and he also bought a snowy white owl at the animal shop. He didn't know why, but the owl and called to Harry, if that made sense.

After some debate, he had named her Hedwig, and Harry and Hagrid went to their last stop: Ollivander's Wand Shop. Hagrid had dropped Harry off, saying he was going to get them ice cream while Harry got his wand, which was fine with the young boy; he prefered being alone. After glancing at the shop a moment longer, Harry entered. Harry had to admit that, while polite, Ollivander was quite creepy. With his long white hair and inquisitive black eyes, he seemed more an insane grandfather than a shopkeeper.

"Oh, Mr. Potter, I was wondering when I would be seeing you," Ollivander greeted, shaking Harry's hand.

"I remember when I sold your mother and father their wands. Good for Charms and Transfiguration, respectively. But you don't want to listen to an old man ramble, let's find your wand!" and the old man was off, giving Harry wand upon wand as the boy tried them all, to disasterous results. The old man had a spring in his step that Harry found odd for someone of his age, and he didn't seem to mind that Harry had broken his windows, reduced one of his shelves to splinters, and set some of the curtains on fire. In fact, he seemed rather excited by it.

"Try this one," he said, handing Harry a thin, brown wand that seemed to frighten Ollivander somewhat.

_'I wonder what's so special about this wand?'_

Harry picked it up cautiously, and gasped as a painful sensation ran up his arm. He closed his eyes, grimacing. It felt like two different powers were warring in his body, and the pain became more and more unbearable until, suddenly, it stopped. Harry heard a distinct crack, and opening his eyes, found his wand in two pieces; one in his hand, the other on the floor. He looked up to Ollivander, who had jumped back during the commotion, a fearul look on his face as he muttered under his breath.

"I had thought that one would work, he told me it would," Harry caught the wandmaker saying before, suddenly, the fear in Ollivander's eyes vanished and he was back to his usual happy self. "Well, that didn't work, now did it?" he said with a slight laugh.

Harry was highly suspicious as Ollivander ran to get more wands for Harry to try. Why had he thought that wand would work? Who told him it would? He stood there for almost ten minutes, the only sound being that of Ollivander bustling about in the back. Eventually, the old man returned, carrying a large white box decorated with intricate designs, which he handed to Harry.

"I had thought - seeing the raw power you showed when you snapped that wand - that you might be the perfect match for these," Ollivander seemed out of breath, like he had been running from a lion while searching for Harry's wand.

Harry slowly opened the box, revealing two crossed wands lying on a purple cushion. While both were long and thin, there was one distinct difference between the two: One was white with black designs crossing around the handle, and the other was black with white designs crossing the handle. Hesitantly, he picked both up, and swished them around.

Even before he had touched them, Harry knew these wands would be the ones for him. But as he picked them up, a feeling of warmth, of acceptance, spread through him. He and the wands were one, magically entwined.

_'Yes, that's poetic enough.'_

As he waved them around, everything that he had broken in Ollivander's shop, from the shelves, to the windows, to the broken wand itself, was instantly repaired, looking as if they had never been broken in the first place.

"Oh bravo! Bravo!" Ollivander called, clapping enthusiastically.

Harry smiled at Ollivander, he was as innocent as a young child.

"Mr. Ollivander? Why did that last wand snap?"

"It reacted negatively to your magic, which has never been documented to be so violent in all of recorded history," Ollivander answered, leaning back in a chair he conjured with the use of his own wand.

"And these wands? Where are they a pair?"

"Ah," Ollivander leaned foraward, grinning a bit. "Those happen to be the last wands made by Merlin himself before he departed this life. There is Lux," he said, gesturing to the white wand, "and there is Nocturne," he gestured to the black. "Both have Wyvren heartstring, and were made from elder wood, and so they both have extraordinary power. And to think that that would choose a young boy such as yourself, simply astounding," Ollivander explained, shaking his head in amazement.

Harry nodded, looking at the wands in wonder; why had they chosen him then? Was he really powerful? He moved to pay for the wands, but Ollivander waved him off, saying that being able to see the wands sold in his lifetime was payment enough, He even gave Harry a white and a black wand holster for each of his wands before the young man was bowed from the shop.

"So how did it go, Harry?" Hagrid asked some time later, after the two had finished their ice cream and were on their way to the London Underground.

"It was fine, I got my wand," Harry answered, deciding not to tell Hagrid about getting two wands until he could be entirely sure of the man's loyalties.

"That's good Harry," Hagrid said, coming to a stop at the entrance to the Underground. The giant seemed to want to get out of the rain that was pounding down. "Well, this is where I leave you. Remember to be at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters by eleven o'clock in one month's time."

"I understand Hagrid," Harry said, shaking hands with Hagrid before entering the Underground, looking for where he was supposed to be.

Harry spotted his train, but before he could move towards it, a scream tore through the air. Harry jumped, startled, but nobody else seemed to hear it. He looked around as he heard it again, and deciding not to take chances, dashed back outside, following the sound until he was led to a nearby alleyway.

Inside were three people: two women and a large man. The women, one of which looked to be in her early thrities, and the other, who looked about his age, were cowering against the wall as the large man brandished a knife at them.

"I told you, all I want is the money, then you can leave! I swear!" he slurred.

"And I told you, my husband has all of our money!" the woman said, her voice quavering with fear.

'_Why did nobody else hear this?' _Harry questioned in his mind, but he shrugged it off for now, he had people to save.

"Hey, you! Ugly!" he called out, gaining the man's attention. Interestingly enough, the man definitely not what one would call handsome.

"Mind your own business, kid," the man said, turning back to the women in disinterest.

Harry's face contorted with rage, and before he knew it, he was making a mad dash for the man.

"Don't ever turn away from me like I'm not worth your time, you will regret it!" Harry shouted as he neared the man.

The man turned, shock on his face, as Harry's fist connected with his hip, knocking him off balance. Harry didn't have time to feel proud though, as he soon found a large fist connecting with his face. He grunted as he fell to the ground, blood gushing from his nose. The man slowly advanced upon Harry as the young boy shakily rose to his feet.

"I'll teach you to meddle in the affairs of adults, boy!" he shouted before plunging the blade at Harry.

As Harry watched the blade inch towards him with wide eyes, time seemed to slow down. Harry didn't know if that was the right phrase, it was like everything slowed down except him. He was able to see witha greater clarity than ever before, and he knew exactly where the man intended to plunge the knife into his body. It was almost as if he could see the future. Calmly, but quickly, Harry jumped to the left, dodging the knife, before he quickly jumped up, punching the man in the throat.

The man gasped, falling as he spit blood out of his mouth, but Harry wasn't done yet; he jumped up, landing on the man's throat with his left foot and glaring at him as the life slowly drained out of his opponent's eyes. Harry stood there, even after he felt the would-be murderer's body go limp under him.

"Th-thank you," the woman said to him, shakily getting up with her daughter. "I'm Emma Granger, and this is my daughter Hermione."

But Harry wasn't paying attention to them; he was looking at a puddle next to his victim's body. He looked... terrible. His clothes were muddy, he had grime all over him, and blood was steadily running down his nose. But that wasn't all. His mouth hung agape as he looked at his reflection closer. Blood red eyes gazed back at him.

**Booyah! Another chapter down! I hope you guys are liking Harry in this story, as I'm trying to make him as Uchiha as I can. Also guys, I have a question: Should I go Manipulative Dumbles in this fic? I want to, but I'm afraid I won't be able to write it correctly. I've read many Manipulative fics, but I don't think anyone has ever done it right. Dumbledore would never fall for the "Harry's head of his family GG" routine, he is way too intelligent. The contingencies he would have would be mind-blowing. But, I'll leave it up to you guys. Oh, what do you guys think of the different wand/can't be head of the family? Don't forget to review! 'Til next time!**


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